Beauty finds herself between two beasts fighting for a place in her heart… 

Damsels in distress quiver in excitement for a chance encounter with famed highwayman Silver Hawk. His devilish handsome face and genteel manners cause the stoutest matrons to grow faint with desire when accosted by him for their baubles. His identity is the best-kept secret of England until he dares to kidnap Rose Witherby, an American woman on her way to greet her fiancé—his enemy. Sebastian Graham, Duke of Dorchester.  

Sebastian is Silver Hawk’s exact opposite. Scarred, a recluse, he dwells in a castle hidden from the world. When he hears his intended bride is missing, he gathers his courage and stages a successful rescue, only to find the young woman’s heart hopelessly ensnared by the highwayman he despises. The very man Sebastian holds responsible for his disfigurement.  

Rose Witherby survived the war with England, only to find herself in the middle of another war. Two men claim to love her, but mystery swirls around them both, binding her heart with apprehension toward her new life and stringing her nerves in ever tighter knots. She fears one of them is not being truthful about his identity and must decide which man to trust when tragedy strikes, setting her on a path filled with family secrets and betrayal, her heart in jeopardy from two men fighting to claim it as their own.

EXCERPT

An hour on horseback never left Rose feeling more aware of every aching body part than it did at that moment. Vengeance was a notion for the healthy to embrace. She had no business riding in the cold, with nary a cloak, or proper clothing. At least her fever kept her warm. And delusional. Was that a man in black clothes and mask riding across an open field toward her? Was the whole of England besieged by highwaymen?

She had no quarterstaff or purse to satisfy this thief’s lust. If he was of a mind to roughly use her body, at least he would die of whatever plague she was being affected by.

Too sick to run or fight, Rose pulled her horse to a stop and waited.

The man nudged his horse into a canter, slowing to a halt about a hundred yards away. “Good day, my lady.”

The deep baritone sounded familiar to her ears. She focused her attention on his appearance. A black mask hid his face, but deep blue eyes stared back at her with open interest, boarding on affection. A wild growth of hair covered the lower jaw, and dark golden hair was cropped close around the ears and neck.

With exception to the beard, his resemblance to Sebastian was uncanny.

And she found herself growing agitated in his presence.

“Let us dispense with frivolous conversation and get down to business,” she said, her voice hoarse and raspy.

The highwayman’s gaze sharpened on her face. “You are sick.”

A horrible racking cough delayed a witty, intelligent reply consisting of two words: I know. When at last she gained breath, the highwayman stood beside her on his horse.

He tugged a glove off, touching a hand to her cheek. His gaze jerked to her face. “You are very sick, madam. Come here. You are in no condition to be riding alone.”

The tone of command was as familiar to her as the voice, but it could not be. She just buried her husband. This man was very much alive. The fever was confusing her mind.

She offered no resistance when the highwayman heaved her from the saddle, into his arms, settling her limp body in his lap. “If you think to ravish me now,” she warned, “you’ll die of the plague.”

His laughter boomed. Chucking her chin, he grinned. “Then I better behave myself.” He nudged the horse forward, his arms cradling her with gentle pressure.

Rose’s face jostled against a warm chest, and she nearly wept for the comfort of it. “Where do you take me?” she asked. The man’s actions and attitude did not seem of violent intent. “What about my horse?”

“I am bringing you back home first, then your horse.”

“You do not know where I live.”

“I am a highwayman. I make it my business to know everything about everyone in this county.”

“Of course.” She was dubious, but who was she to argue with her warm blanket. “Then you must know the vexing Lord Edgewood. He has set himself upon me in the most terrible fashion.”

The highwayman wrenched his back upright so fast it cracked in three places. “Lord Edgewood set himself upon you?”

She yawned, wondering at the rapidly beating heart beneath her warm cheek. “Oh yes! He thinks I’m with child, and he is always pestering me to stay in bed, or eat my food, or stay off the ledge in the rain and dark of night. Things that sorely test my temper.”

A finger nudged her chin up, and she found herself staring into a familiar tender gaze. “Madam, are you with child?”

She ignored the question, too caught up in the familiarity of this masked thief to Sebastian. The last time a pair of blue eyes looked this way was when Sebastian was making love to her for the first time, attempting to calm her fears of the marriage act.

Unbidden, the face of the little boy who gave her the flower surged to mind.

How many other women had her husband treated to the same view? How many had he charmed and seduced, leaving them with broken hearts and filled wombs?

Grief and anger pushed her over the edge. “Put. Me. Down.”

The highwayman blinked, the affection melting from his eyes. “Excuse me?”

She began to struggle within his arms, desperate to be free of his touch. “You’re too much like him. Leave me be. Leave me—”

Twin vices locked around her torso, throwing her up against a boulder for a chest. “Cease your mad tantrum, woman, and start talking sense before you hurt yourself or the…the baby.”

His throat moved with his swallow, as though he were overcome with deep emotion, acting as though he were the father.

It was the last straw.

Sobs squeezed out from her closed mouth, choking the breath from her lungs. A dam had burst within her heart, from an injury she did not know she’d been bearing.

“Christ.” The highwayman halted the horse, swinging from the saddle with her in his arms, cradling her as he carried her to a sprawling oak tree, sitting beneath it on the sparse grass. “Madam, would you care to unburden yourself before you drown in tears?” He eased her head away from his chest, smiling into her eyes. “I can’t swim, but I’d be happy to listen.”

His teasing smile made her cry harder.

He groaned at the new flood, rubbing her back in rough, tight circles. “I’m terrible at calming females, not having much practice at it. What can I do to help?”

A wild, mad thought claimed her mind. This thief was unusually accommodating, so perhaps he wouldn’t mind her asking a strange favor. “You look like my husband, sir.”

His muscles tensed beneath her. “Do I?”

“Yes, and I buried him today.”

“Are those the reasons for your tears?” He brushed at the lingering wetness on her cheeks with bare fingers. “I’m sorry for your loss. You must have cared for him,” he added in a whisper.

She grabbed his fingers, pulling them from her face. “Yes, I cared, but more than that, I didn’t get to say goodbye.”

“I see.”

With reckless courage strengthening her resolve, she stood, ignoring the world as it spun in circles. “I would ask a favor, sir. Since you bear an uncanny resemblance to my husband, would you pretend to be him so I can say a proper goodbye?”

The highwayman stood, bowing. “It would be my honor, madam.” He straightened and stepped closer, arms at his side.

Taking a deep, rattling breath, her hand lashed out.

Then smacked him across his masked cheek.

“That’s for not waiting to see a doctor.”

His booted foot met the heel of her slippers.

“That’s for getting me with child when you knew how I feared having baby.”

Next she pummeled his broad chest.

“That’s for dying and leaving me alone with child.”

Thumping his chest again, she swayed. “And that’s for…”

She couldn’t bring herself to mention Sebastian’s mistresses, or victims, as Logan believed. It was too embarrassing a detail to share. Letting the sentence go unfinished she sank to the ground, exhausted by her outburst. Sweat mingled with tears on her face.

The highwayman cautiously sank to the earth beside her.

Rose focused on the dying grass. “I was eight and ten when told I would have to marry a stranger and go live in a country I’d never been to, without family or friends to offer company or solace. Can you imagine, thief, what it is like to not be able to control your life, but be made victim of it? I trusted my father, and he betrayed me.”

He reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers. “I understand.”

Surprised at his answer, she inclined her head to the side, only to find his gaze on the horizon in the direction of her home.

“I’m sure it is always a defining moment when a girl realizes there are no heroes in life,” he said. “And the only rescues guaranteed are the ones forged by her own hands.”

“Yes!”

He smiled. “I am of a similar mind. Even if chivalry does not exist outside the pages of a fairytale, men do. And what are we? Not angels of God, surely, or Lucifer in all his frightening glory. No, men are beasts locked between good and evil, and women suffer for it. I know they do. Men suffer too, from broken dreams and hearts that will not mend.”

She squeezed his hand. “Who wounded you?”

“My mother,” he said without delay. “Father was a cruel man, infatuated with himself and the power his title afforded him. He used to beat my mother and made me watch, telling me it would make me a better man. Eventually, she died, leaving me alone with the monster. The monster groomed me well, but even as I tried to please him, there was always one who pleased him more. My half-brother.”

“Did he treat women as badly as your father?”

“God no. He honored them. Elevated them above his own welfare. He lived by his own code of honor, and my father respected him for it. Made him a member of the peerage. Brought him into our home and paraded him around in front of me.”

“Was your father so proud of him then?”

He frowned. “No. Rather the opposite. But I made the mistake of letting my father know how much my half-brother’s perfection bothered me. It became a means of torture then to the old man. So, I left home. Bought a commission in the army.”

“You were a soldier? How dreadful.”

“It didn’t last long. By the time I arrived back home…”

She laid a comforting hand on his slackened arm. “Your father did not welcome you back?”

He shuddered, then pulled himself together, smiling down at her. “My father found other pursuits while I was away. I was no more than an afterthought to him.”

She peered into the guarded expression, experiencing a feeling of one who has heard a story before but not being able to place it right away. “Your life sounds dismal. I hope you achieved a measure of happiness for yourself.”

He chortled. “Indeed, I did.” He sobered. “For a time. In a marriage to a beautiful, brave young woman.”

“Did you love her?”

The highwayman stared hard into her eyes. “Yes.”

A moment of silence passed between them, and it was hard to ignore the poignant pain consuming her chest. “Then why are you a criminal, working outside the law? I thought your father was titled?”

He glanced away. “We do what we must, so those we love may have a better life.”

Feeling a kinship with him, she leaned over and kissed his masked cheek. “A better life for a woman shall always include having the man she loves by her side.”

Surprise slackened her jaw when tears glistened in the thief’s eyes.

“I know,” he said, “but I cannot let go. And a child changes everything.”

“There are other ways for a poor man to support his family. Surely there must be honest work out there for you.”

He laughed an unhappy sound. “As I said, there are no heroes here. Only lofty dreams and stark reality.”

A horse whinnied in the distance, entering the open glen where Rose sat with her wayward highwayman. She caught sight of a familiar form astride a black stallion. Logan.

“I have to go,” she said, whirling to address the highwayman. “Thank you for—”

His lips rushed up to grind against hers.

She pushed, and he released her, his eyes somber and forlorn.

“I don’t want you to go,” he whispered, “but neither can I ask you to stay.” His gaze drifted to Logan. “There would be a conflict.”

Unsure of the thief’s motives when he had a wife he loved; she could only nod her agreement. “Yes, Lord Edgewood is very protective of me.”

Blue eyes sliced her. “As well he should be with a pregnant widow in his care.” He jerked his head in Logan’s direction. “Go then. Before he finds me.”

She stood and hurried away across the open field as best her wobbly legs could carry her. It was a blessing to find this strange highwayman. Talking to him did, in fact, make her feel better, as though she truly had been given a chance to say goodbye to her husband.